House's Heart, Wilson's Head
by Revengent
Summary: Can House's and Wilson's bond be broken? Wilson wonders if he can live without House, while House realizes that he cares. A post season 5 fic. Not slash.


**Okay, I had to get my post-Wilson's Heart fic out here before tomorrow. (SQUEE!)**

**Ahem. But this is an one-shot. And basically, I switched the episode titles (House's Head, Wilson's Heart) to the title of the fic. I wrote my oun fic because I was tried of evil, angst Wilson. This is how I think he would be. And I _do _think that House cares a lot about Wilson. "I don't want him to hate me." Come on, that screams care!**

**And this is not slash AT ALL. Just making that clear.**

**And if you read my other stuff, it will be up really soon. I just had to get this out of my mind.**

**Reviews are welcomed with love!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own House or Wilson or anything. But I wished I did :)**

* * *

**House's Heart, Wilson's Head**

It was the common misconception about funerals. When depicted in movies and such, the scene for the funeral is always shown as a rainy downpour as the mourners in their black clothes gather around the deceased's burial ground. Supposedly, it symbolizes sadness and makes the situation even more pathetic.

For Amber Volakis's funeral, hers did not follow the cliché normality of a funeral. There were no storm clouds in the sky – only white fluffy ones, the sun shone brightly down, and the gentle breeze offset the heat just enough so it would not be unbearable.

He could see where one would want the rainy-day funeral. It would seem that life was so terrible that everything had to stop for the funeral and would have a tears fall from the heavens. It would be unfair that the something as simple as the weather (which in reality, was not all that simple), would go on unaffected by their loved one's death.

But life moves on. C'est la vie.

He had been eight years old and his mother had put him into his nice suit to go to his grandma's funeral. It had been the first funeral that he had gone too, and it was the one that had affected him the most in his life. House remembered that his mom being sad that her own mother had died, but she was also happy that she had passed away. Confused at how she could be happy that her mother had died, House had asked his mom why. She told him that his grandma was "no longer suffering" and "was in a better place."

Now, as House watched them lower Amber Volakis's coffin into the ground, he remembered his mother's words. He wished that he believed them fully, but then again, anyplace is better than here.

His mind wondering and not listening to what was being said about Amber, House let out an exasperated sigh. Not long after, he felt someone's hand find his and intertwined their fingers with his. Guessing that it was Cuddy, House stole a quick glance up away from the ground.

Cuddy had her head slightly turned towards him with sad eyes but a small smile. House tried to return a smile, but couldn't find the happiness in him to do so.

Since the event, Cuddy had been at House's bedside at the hospital constantly. Even though he was probably not in the best condition to do so, Cuddy had allowed House to come to Amber's funeral. He was glad that Cuddy had been there for him during this time; she understood what was going on without having to ask, and did not try to interrogate him to examine his emotions. She gave him his space because she knew that he would come to her if he needed to. However, he was growing tired of the look that he got most of the time from her; the eyes of concern, the small frown and the wrinkled forehead that was trying to figure out what House was feeling.

House tore his graze away from Cuddy, looking at the crowd of mourners.

First he saw what had to be Amber's parents. Her mother was a carbon copy of Amber, they shared the same light skin tone to the blond hair and her father looked like the typical aging man: balding with a round stomach. Amber's mother was distraught, hanging on to her husband crying out for her little girl for that was taken away from her too early, while her husband simply stoked her hair and cried silently.

Wilson stood a few feet away from Amber's parents, looking as though he was not comfortable to be next to them. His head was hanging down, his whole body shaking from crying. House continued to watch Wilson as the priest said his last words and Amber's parents' last good-bye, where they laid a single rose next to her grave. After that, he crowd slowly dispersed, each going their separate ways to continue with their own life.

House watched as Amber's parents talked to Wilson. Wilson somberly nodded to whatever they were saying, and Amber's dad patted him on the shoulder and her mom gave him a hug before they walked hand-in-hand away from the gravesite.

"Greg?"

Cuddy's voice was soft and horse. House realized he was still holding her hand. He let go, and let his arm fall to his side.

"House, it's time to go," Cuddy said.

House nodded, but did not move. He continued to look at Wilson, who was staring at the disappearing form of Amber's parents in the distance.

"Do you want and talk to him?" Cuddy asked.

"Yeah," House said.

"Okay." Cuddy squeezed House's shoulder. "Just give it time."

House looked away from Wilson and to Cuddy. "I think I'm going to need more than time."

Cuddy shook her head. "Time changes everything. Trust me." She walked away from House, looking over her shoulder and said, "I'll wait in the car."

House turned back to Wilson, who was glaring at House. When he saw that House had noticed that he was looking at him, Wilson quickly moved his gaze elsewhere.

House limped over to Wilson, stopping when he was at his side. Neither spoke nor looked at each other, both observing the image of Amber's grave. After a few minutes, House spoke.

"Are you not going to talk to me?" House asked.

"I don't really want to right now House." Wilson's curt tone cut into House, surprising him. This was the first time that they had spoken since Amber had passed away.

"I want to talk," House said.

"You never want to talk."

"I do now."

Wilson looked at House. His eyes were red-rimmed and dark circles made his usual boyish, brown eyes seem dark and gloomy. "I loved her," Wilson said simply.

"I know."

"Why House? Why did you do it?"

"I didn't intend for it to happen…I called for you and she came-,"

"Did you sleep with her?" Wilson asked.

"No. I wouldn't do that. Not to you," House said.

Wilson scoffed.

"What is that supposed to mean?" House asked.

"It's always about you House. You have always taken advantage of me, put me in risk or thought of yourself before me. You have never cared about me or my well being."

Too stunned to speak, House looked at Wilson. Wilson continued talking, his voice steadily rising.

"For once, I was happy, and you did everything so I would be miserable. You wallow in self-pity, but when someone tries to help you, you push them away. I don't know why you like being miserable, but for some reason it suits you. And that would be okay, but you force they same misery on everybody, dragging them down too. But, I'm finally done with you. I won't have you cause me anymore trouble."

House swallowed hearing the hurtful, but true words from Wilson. "Wilson…"

"What? You won't have any friends? Or are you just concerned that you won't have a drug dealer?" Wilson snapped.

"No. I…" House sighed. "I'm sorry."

Wilson rolled his eyes. "You're always sorry."

"But I really am!" House yelled. "I did what you asked. I risked my life, and almost died, to try and save her. I did that for you. Doesn't that mean anything?"

Wilson ran his hands through his hair and sighed. "I have the right to walk away from you House."

"But you won't."

"It's different this time."

"I can't have you hate me," House whispered. "I can't…" House bit his lip and looked down at the ground, unable to finish his sentence.

Wilson closed his eyes and shook his head. "I can't do it House. I just can't." He sighed. "Good-bye House."

House looked up to see Wilson walking away. House was hoping that Wilson would turn around and look at House over his shoulder. He didn't.

Fighting the stinging sensation in his eyes, House looked down at the ground.

House felt something wet on his head. He looked up to see dark rain clouds. Rain began to fall a few seconds later.

--

It started raining out of nowhere. Wilson began walking faster, his shoes sloshing in the wet grass. After a few paces he stopped and turned around.

House was walking away in the opposite direction.

--

On the car ride back, Cuddy kept stealing a glance at House, but would return her eyes to the road. House did not pay attention to where they were going, but he looked up to see that Cuddy had driven to his apartment.

"I'm not going back to the hospital?" he asked.

Cuddy shook her head. "You're fine. Plus I think you would rather be home. Right?"

House looked out the window at the rain beating down on the pavement. "Good as I can be."

Cuddy fought back tears and brushed her hair out her eyes. "Do you want me to help you in?"

Wordlessly, House nodded.

Cuddy knew that he had to be bad if he accepted her help.

After Cuddy had helped House into his apartment, she dropped her purse in his chair and helped him to his bedroom. She helped him take off his wet clothes, put dry ones on and pulled the covers over his cold shivering body.

"I'm going to stay here," Cuddy said.

"You don't have to," House muttered.

"I want to." Cuddy smiled and turned off the light. "Get some sleep."

House watched as Cuddy shut his bedroom door. He closed his eyes and listened to the relaxing sound of the rain clattering on the roof and fall onto the concrete outside. Despite how much he desperately wanted to go to sleep, House's mind was teeming with thoughts.

House could not believe Wilson actually ended their friendship. He thought that by now with everything they had been though, nothing could sever their ties. However, Wilson did, and that left House more distraught that he thought he would have been.

Wilson was House's emotional crutch, the counterpart to his cane. Wilson understood all of House's idiosyncrasies, and more importantly, understood him as a person and saw what was underneath all the sarcasm and witty remarks.

House rolled over and looked out his window. Even though most of the time House denied and suppressed his emotions, he could not ignore the empty sick feeling that had been left in the pit of his stomach. Normally, the only person that House would feel comfortable to talk about something like this would be Wilson, but that was obviously out of the question.

Amber had died while House was still in a coma. When he woke up, Cuddy had sat down on the edge of House's bed without talking. House had thought that something was wrong with him, that he had been harmed in the deep-brain stimulation. Instead, he was given the news that Amber had died only a few hours before.

When Wilson had finally came around to visiting House's room at the hospital, House expected his friend to come over and sit by his bed and sob uncontrollably about Amber's death. However, Wilson just stood by the door and looked at House with an empty ambiguous gaze, and then walked away without a word, leaving House speechless.

House closed his eyes. Even though he didn't like admitting that he needed something, he could not deny that he needed Wilson there as his friend. Wilson was one of the few people he gave a damn about.

A thought struck House. What if Wilson had been home and he had come to pick him up from the bar instead of Amber? Would Wilson be dead too, or would it not be in fate's hands for Wilson to die now?

House remembered what Amber had said when he saw her in his coma dream.

_What now?_

_Get off the bus._

_Well, you can't always get what you want._

But he didn't want to lose Wilson, but it looked like that was going to happen.

House shut his eyes, and for the first time in a long time, he cried.

--

Wilson walked around his apartment, putting away Amber's belongings away in a box. He thought that her parents should have some memory of their daughter.

When he got to his bedroom, Wilson set the box on the floor and flopped down on his bed. Suddenly, the memories of when he and Amber had gone to buy the mattress flooded his mind.

Sighing, Wilson reached over to the nightstand and picked up the envelope that he had looked at every day since he found it.

_I'm sorry I'm not here. I went to pick up House. 3 A_

Tears clouded his vision as he let the note fall to the floor. The few simple words would forever ring in his mind, _I'm sorry I'm not here…_

And it was because of House.

Wilson brought his knees to his chest and closed his eyes. When House had apologized today, Wilson had wanted to forgive House. A sincere apology from House was rare. However, something kept Wilson from letting him go back to normal. It just wouldn't be right.

Wilson knew House felt guilty, but so did he. He couldn't believe that he asked House to risk his life in order to save Amber, but what was more surprising is that House actually did it. Wilson figured that House would have come up with some way to diagnose Amber without almost killing himself.

But it wasn't worth it. Amber now was lying six feet underground.

Wilson was hit with an interesting prospect. _What if House had died too?_ Then he would have not only lost his love, but he would have also lost his best friend as well.

A thought came across his mind thinking that House would have deserved it, but Wilson quickly shook that out of his mind. Nobody deserves death. Not to mention that he couldn't imagine going to House's funeral.

Wilson thought of something House had said to him awhile ago.

_Bros before hoes._

Wilson pulled out a small box out of his pocket and opened it, seeing the engagement ring that he had bought for Amber. He had been caring around the ring a month before Amber had died, never being to figure out the right time to propose.

Wilson could hear House's mocking voice in his head. _Mrs. Ex-Wilson the Fourth._

Wilson snapped the box shut. It didn't matter now. Amber was dead and she was never coming back.

And Wilson was alone.

--

Hose staggered into his living room, expecting to find Cuddy on his couch. Instead, he found a note with Cuddy's scribbled handwriting lying next to the phone.

_I had to go to work, but if you need anything CALL ME._

_Love, Lisa_

House scoffed as he crumpled the note. Typical.

--

Wilson woke to his phone ringing. Not opening his eyes, his reached in his pocket fishing out his cell and opened it.

"Hello?"

"James, it's Cuddy."

Wilson sighed. "What do you want?"

He could hear on the other end that Cuddy was crying. "James, he…House…"

Wilson opened his eyes and sat up. "What?"

Cuddy let out a shaky breath. "House is dead," she said before breaking into loud sobs.

"W-what? How? I thought that he was going to be okay," Wilson frantically blurted.

"He was. It was…something else," Cuddy said through her sobs.

"What?"

Wilson could hear that Cuddy took in a deep breath. "He killed himself, James. I came over to his apartment to find him on the floor with an empty bottle of Vicodin in his hand-,"

"No!" Wilson tried getting off of his bed and standing, but he fell to the floor. "He can't…not him too…"

"I know," Cuddy simply said. "I'm sorry James. Even though I know that before you were angry with him, I know you cared about him a lot."

Wilson nodded his head, not thinking that Cuddy couldn't see him. "Thanks for letting me know," he said and then closed his phone, letting it fall to the ground.

Wilson doubled over feeling sick. House had died, and Wilson felt that it was his fault. If only he had forgiven House today at Amber's funeral, things might be different.

Wilson laid down on the feeling the cold wood floor against his body. Next to his face was Amber's note. Wilson shut his eyes.

House didn't kill Amber. What happened to her was just a sick twist of fate. But Wilson…he had killed his best friend.

Wilson shut his eyes and cried for the loss of another loved one, knowing that this time, he was truly alone.

--

Wilson woke up in a cold sweat expecting to be on his bedroom floor, where he had fell asleep from exhaustion after Cuddy had called him. However, he woke up on top of the covers on his own bed.

Wilson looked at his watch. It was eight thirty A.M. He had slept through the night and it was the morning after Amber's funeral.

And House's death.

Wilson sat up rubbing his temples with his thumbs. He didn't remember getting into bed last night. The last thing he remembered was Cuddy calling him, telling him about House, and then he was on the floor and…nothing else. He looked down at the floor. Amber's note was still laying face up on the floor, but his phone wasn't on the floor where he thought he had left it.

He patted his pocket, and then pulled out his phone. _That's odd. _He scrolled through his recent calls list. It did not list that Cuddy had called him last night.

Wilson sighed with relief. It had been a dream. House was alive. Wilson blinked back tears of happiness as he made up his mind.

He had already lost one person and he didn't want to lose another, whether it is by death or by an ended friendship.

--

House groaned as he heard a knock on his front door. If it was Cuddy, she would come in by herself, so House decided to ignore the urgent pounding at the door.

"House?"

House looked around at the front door. In the open doorway stood James Wilson.

House turned back around and continued watching the television on mute.

Wilson slowly walked over to the couch where House was sitting and motioned to the seat next to House. "Can I sit down?"

House shrugged.

Wilson sat down next to House and looked up at the television. Toy Story was playing and Buzz Lightyear and Woody were up to their antics. Wilson cleared his throat.

"Thank you."

House glanced to the side. "For what?"

"For risking your life to figure out what was wrong with Amber."

"You came here to tell me that?" House asked.

Wilson nodded. "And also…that I'm sorry."

"Again, I don't know what you mean. I thought I was the one that had to apologize."

"No, you did nothing wrong. I was being foolish. All the times you have done something bad to me had built up and I couldn't take it anymore. But…I know that Amber's death wasn't your fault, it was just bad luck."

"So…you forgive me?" House asked.

Wilson nodded. "For the most part. But I'm still mad at everything else you have done."

"Like…?"

Wilson rolled his eyes. "Do I really have to explain?"

House thought about it for a second and then shook his head. "I'm sorry. If it makes you feel better, every time I'm trying to fall asleep, I'm plagued by the memory of that night on the bus. I see the bus coming, but I can't do anything but stare at it, with its bright lights coming straight towards us, I see how…," House says, his voice breaking. "I see her hurt, reaching out for me to save her, and I couldn't…and-,"

"Stop. You don't have to tell me. Apology accepted," Wilson whispered.

The two sat in silence.

"So things are back to normal now?" House asked hopefully.

"Things can never go back to how they were. But we can start over," Wilson suggested.

"I guess so," House said somberly.

"We can. Because even if you are a pain in the ass, I would miss you if you weren't around," Wilson said.

"What made you realize that?" House asked.

"Oh...I just did." Wilson did not want to tell House about the dream in which House had died.

"That's good, because I, well…"

"What? You would miss me too?" Wilson asked.

"Yeah. That's it."

Wilson laughed, and House cracked a smile.

"I'm sorry you lost her," House said.

"So am I. I was going to ask her to marry me."

"Oh."

Wilson looked to House. "What, no witty remark?"

House shook his head. "No."

"Thanks House."

The two stared at the movie on the television.

"Can you turn it up?" Wilson asked.

House grabbed the remote and adjusted the volume and they watched the rest of the cartoon.

Even though they didn't have much, they were glad to know that they both had their friendship.

**So there you go. :) I hope you liked it. Review please, cookies to those that do!**


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